Figrafi Mattor:The Fire Mother
by Amielle de Ponte
Summary: What happened after the male dragon was destroyed, and is it really the end? And who is that strange girl with the eyes of a dragon that knows so much about them, yet says so little. Rated M for later chapters and extreme violence and gore.


**Disclaimer**: I don't own Reign of Fire

This is also partially fantasy oriented, so if you don't like witchcraft in your stories, this isn't the best story for you. There will definitely be more chapters.

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Chapter One: Dragon Heart

Her hair fell down in a long braid down the middle of her back. It swung like one of their tails, a slow rhythmic movement that matched the ticking beat of a clock. Quinn stared, unsure of who this girl was, of where she came from, and of what she was capable of. It had been three months since they had killed the male dragon, and it was considerably noticeable, the change in attacks, and the number of dragons that flew the skies looking for food. Quinn knew that there would be no more to hunt them down, no more to run from, and no more to fear in sleeping and waking dreams.

But this _girl_. This new creature, as she seemed, still baffled him. Never had Quinn seen anyone like her. Dark tan skin tone and a body built from years of running and hunting and fighting, red and gold tattoos smoothed over her noticeable curves. With golden hair that shinned in the dark and was the color of wheat, she wore it in a long braid though the tangled unruly curls showed through. The innocent face of an angel and yet the eyes of a dragon, the eyes of a creature that burned and brought death. She was a totally different monster, he knew this, and she was afraid of his knowledge. When asked where she was from, the girl merely pointed to the sky a smirk playing on her lips.

He couldn't explain this one, when men and women alike loved her and nobody wished to anger her for her eyes _were_ like that of a dragon. He stared at her, and her at him, both perplexed by the existence of the other.

"So," he began, "Where are you really from, then?"

She pointed to the sky, red and black tattoos of unintelligible symbols travelled down her arm and up her neck. She smiled innocently at Quinn, only wishing to disarm his suspicions. She didn't like questions, and didn't like people suspecting her for absolutely no reason. She had lived her entire life as the pariah and unofficial leader of her little village of Bellavine. She was suspected from birth for her odd coloring, they thought she was a witch, even in the twenty-first century, that town was far behind. It was gone now, and they suspected her of that as well.

"It felt like fire," she said quietly, they were the first words she ever spoke to him.

"What?"

"It felt like fire. It burned, but they made me drink it anyway. And I became like _them._"

"What did they make you drink, and who were they?" Quinn's curiosity was tinged with a hint of concern.

"I want to tell you a story." And she began.

"The sound of their wings flapping in the night sky haunted me until I was mad. I never thought of a life that didn't involve their constant threat and presence. I never thought.

I was seven when the first one was found beneath the London streets. It cast an eternal shadow over my little town's roads. It blackened my streets with fire and burned our houses to dust and ash. I wasn't in London at the time…my mother had promised to take me there later that day. It never happened.

When they finally released to the press what the "cause" of the recent fires was, it was too late. Half the world's major cities had been destroyed, and entire countries disappeared beneath their destructive fires. I was in our cellar when one of them soared over Bellavine. My home was under their siege. A town that size had no defenses and absolutely no way fighting the beasts off, we were run down under ground until the flames on top died back down.

It was a sight to see, like a city after it had been bombed, all that was there to greet us few that made it to the underground shelters was scorched earth and ash. Few bodies scattered the land even though many had died at the wing of a dragon. It snowed, grayish black. It came down in lightweight flakes that weighed down any soul. We knew it wasn't the trees that rained down softly on our heads. It wasn't the debris from disintegrated buildings; it wasn't the thin layer of fire burnt scales from their rough backs. We knew that it was our families, our friends, our loved ones; it was their bodies, their death floating gently down from heaven.

It didn't take them long to grow, reproduce, and destroy and in three years they had easily wiped out sixty-eight percent of the entire population of the world. They never got to tally the numbers but that is what I figured. Then again I was never any good at math.

We hid underneath the village at night, but we knew that they were getting restless, smarter, and hungrier. Our people were tired of living beneath our rotting town. At night the children cried black tears. The soot and grime and ash had infected their eyes. It ran down their face, yellow and black, puss oozed from the tear ducts and the sting of the death snow, as we had come to call it, hurt them and their infectious tears made it hurt more.

One mother, whose child suffered endlessly decided it was time to end little Anna's suffering. She was burned by smoldering debris, it collapsed after the first attack, it used to be her home. When it fell in, large pieces of wood smoldered into her flesh, making a popping sound. It had been so hot that the wood acted as metal burning her, searing her arm to her clothing. She screamed in terror, not pain, the heat was so intense that it felt like a cool breeze on her arm, side, and legs. She screamed at the sight of her flesh slowly melding to the wool sweater she wore.

I was there; I pulled her from beneath the white hot beam that used to support her home. I thought it was ironic, I thought it was queer, the idea that she was to suffer for the one thing she had left in this world. Her father was part of the death snow. I burned me hands getting her out, but I didn't feel it, it felt like a cool breeze on my hands. I got her out from beneath the fire. Her mother, Elizabeth her name was, cried and thanked me for her daughter's life. I was in shock, they told me later, and I ended up hurting Elizabeth's feelings because I didn't respond to her praise.

I watched as Elizabeth slit her own daughter's throat. I was in shock again, I suppose, because I couldn't move. It was in slow motion for me, that's the only way to describe it. I saw her weeping over the girl whose eyes were bright with fear, and something else. An understanding, a calm that comes with the knowledge that something bad was about to happen and she was prepared for it. I saw Elizabeth's hand reach into a deep pocket in her purse and she pulled out what I thought to be the longest knife in the history of the world. I remember thinking, _Why does she need all that knife, the girl doesn't have that much neck!_ I saw the rush of people crashing smashing into one another to get closer to the action, either curious or cautious of the woman with the miniature machete in her hand. I looked on, still as a pillar of salt as she dug the blade into her daughter's neck. Blood was like the fire above 

ground, consuming the little girl's sweater and swallowing the pink bows on her arm. It spread and finally stopped flowing all together.

Later that night, they held a trial for the grieving Elizabeth and she was sent out into the wilderness to fend for herself, and to fight off the dragons and their hunger. I wept for her. I wept for Anna. I wept for Bellavine. It wasn't long after Elizabeth was thrown into the streets of London that one of _them_ found us, found our underground city and decided that we had lived without too much death for much too long.

It smoked us out, literally breathing fire into one of the air vents created to keep clean airflow throughout the catacombs. Many ran out into the daylight only to be engulfed in a raging fire, that or eaten alive. I saw my brother torn before my eyes. I saw the dark brown beast rip his limbs clean from his body, and I hated it for taking the last connection to the past and my old life away.

After it had its fill, it torched the remaining structures, just in case I suppose. I was inside one of them. That's how I got these marks. The healed the burns and to disguise my injuries they tattooed them red and gold. They would call me warrior of the dragons. My cute little superstitious Bellavine."

Her voice was like a piano slowly playing out its aria. When she finished, Quinn slipped back into himself after being drawn into her lulling voice. He saw a single tear roll down her angelic face and it was almost as if he had known her forever the way he began trying to comfort her.

"I'm sorry that you had to go through all that."

She nodded to his comment.

"It's tragic that you had to see everything that you did at such a young age."

Another nod.

"If you ever need to talk-"screams cut him off. He ran outside to see what the noise was for and found himself face to face with a rather large, angry looking female dragon. It was fire red with large claws that hovered neatly above the rocky earth.

"It can't be!" he shouted as the dragon's angry call shook his very core. A blinding white light captured his attention and he turned to see the girl with wheat colored hair standing in front of one of the few remaining flood lights calling out to the dragon.

"Gaia tovarine! Gaia monieasho!" she screamed above the roar, forming every word into a howl. The dragon charged at her only to be caught between the eyes with a large curved blade. It fell lifeless on the ground and the girl climbed from beneath its dead weight. She walked over to Quinn holding the dragons heart in two hands and smiling lightly.

"Post it near the door. They won't come around for a while when they catch a whiff of this." It was Quinn's turn to nod. He took the heart on either side, trying not to let it touch his clothing, the thing stunk to high heaven. He handed it off to one of the reconstruction worlers and walked over to the girl. her head was hanging as she stood over the dead figure of the dragon.

"Are you alright?" he asked. She looked up at him smiled and collapsed on top of the huddled dragon.

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed the First Chapter, there will be more to come as soon as I get some downtime. Who knows, maybe there is more to this chick than people are allowed to know? Ahh, forget it, I'm not going to leave with that much of a cliffhanger. XD


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